Salamander: Imprisoned
by hopelessswriter
Summary: After years of hunting, the Salamander has finally been caught. But what does the warden want with him now? Set in the Kidnapper universe; Kidnapper and Manhunt highly recommend before reading this.


"Salamander. They want you again."

The Salamander flicked his eyes up to the guard standing at his door. He was one of the more neutral ones, meaning the Salamander's activities hadn't personally affected him in any way. He rolled his shoulders and stood up, glad to see a flicker of fear in the guard's otherwise bored face. For once, the Salamander followed obediently, the will to resist gone.

Months of being in Hargeon Penitentiary had worn on him; all of the inmates were either his victims or challengers, always wanting a rematch or chance to prove themselves. The warden had noticed this within the first few hours and had moved him to a private cell, more to protect her hide than the Salamander's.

The guard led him down a corridor he'd never been down before. Whenever the warden wanted to see him, it was normally to discipline a particularly riotous inmate. There was a bigger, hidden agenda that went along with those summons, but he had learned that he wouldn't learn anything by asking.

So when he walked into a clean white room with a window and table in it, he knew something was up. The guard instructed him to sit at the table and left, but Natsu walked around the room. There was a metal sliding chute next to the table, which was pushed up against the wall in an odd manner. There was only one chair; he would bet that he'd be disciplined if he had actually sat in it when whoever he was meeting with arrived. He'd actually laughed the first time they had tried beating him; he'd left them in a bloody pile and came away with only a few bruises.

But after that they had started bringing him news of _her_ , and he'd straightened up.

The door swung open with a quiet swoosh, and he looked up to see the warden. He knew nothing of her except that her wanting to see him usually meant he had to beat the shit out of someone. But today she was alone, which set off a distant alarm bell in his brain. Her hair was in a strict bun, and as always she watched him warily as she walked in the room. She sat properly in the chair, while he leaned against the opposite wall.

"How are you doing, Salamander?" she asked, her voice detached, like she didn't care if he answered. Which he didn't. She carried right along like he had. "Good, good. You're bail's been paid."

That caught his attention. The dullness in his head cleared a little at those words, but the haze was only replaced with distrust. No one had the kind of money to pay his bail; at least no one that cared about him that much. _'Maybe…'_ his brain started, but he shut that line of thought off immediately. It had been weeks since he'd last thought of Lucy, and he wasn't going to start now. It would only break him further.

"Why?" he asked. It seemed like a safe question, and he'd rather know the reason than the person. This warden met him question for question, so he'd rather play his cards right.

Her eyes held his for half a second before she looked away. "Your services are needed by an old friend of mine, and I owe him a favor. That favor just so happens to be you." She tapped on the sliding door and stood up. "My turn, as you know, Salamander."

The little door slid open to release a small lighter. The warden picked it up, examining it carefully. "An associate of mine found this in a pub downtown, in a room marked yours. It was surprisingly well hidden for such a simple tool." She flicked it open, never looking away from the valve where the flame came out. "Why would you hide this little lighter so well?" Her serious gaze flicked to him.

He was frozen. He hadn't used that lighter since last Christmas. It was from a darker time, a time when he hadn't minded being called a monster. When dirty tricks were just another rule of street fighting, and flames were just another thing to be whispered about the Salamander.

"I used to use it," he replied, deciding not to say anymore on the lighter. It was none of the warden's business. She seemed to note his resolve, and knocked on the door again. This time she got a knock back, and she stood up and walked toward the door. She opened it to reveal a one-toothed inmate Natsu had "disciplined" only three days ago. She tossed him the lighter, and traded spots with the inmate.

"Show me how you use it," she said, and turned to go. But Natsu threw it to the ground.

"No. I don't need it."

The warden turned to look at him one last time, a burning look in her eyes. "Show me, and I let you see her before you're processed." Then she turned and stalked off.

Natsu stared at her, anger and hope igniting a fire he hadn't felt since two months ago, rekindled after all of this time. He bent down and picked up the lighter just as the oaf charged forward. Natsu flexed his fingers, the popping they made music to his ears. The soft click of the lighter erased his mind of all thought. His thumb swiped across the small switch that changed its mode, and he turned the intensity all the way up. As his opponent got within range, he lit the flint and swept the lighter in a wide arc, a curl of flame hovering in the air in front of his chest. The inmate stumbled in an effort to stop his momentum, but it was too late. He ran into the wall of fire just in time to meet the fist swinging into it. He dropped to the floor at Natsu's feet, but he was only looking at the window he knew she was behind.

Her voice crackled through the invisible speaker in the room. "Go back to your cell, Salamander. She'll be here to pick you up soon."


End file.
